


The Silver Swan

by Kamaro0917



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Actually it's not that fluffy., Darker aspects, Drama, F/F, Fluff and Smut, GP!Hermione, Girl Penis, Grey, Intersex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaro0917/pseuds/Kamaro0917
Summary: Big risks often lead to even bigger rewards... at least that's what Hermione was banking on. Welcome to the Roaring 20's...Combined piece for Day 4/5 of Fleurmione Week 2020
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 81
Kudos: 381
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione took a deep drag of her cigarette, enjoying the familiar burn in her throat. She held the smoke in her lungs for a moment as she leaned against the wall of the dark alleyway, tucked away in a little alcove. If not for the soft red glow and scent of her smoke, she would have been completely concealed in the shadows, her dark clothes and black trench coat were the perfect camouflage. She exhaled slowly and watched the puff of smoke and moisture from her breath linger like a hazy cloud in front of her face before dissipating into the crisp fall night. ‘ _ God I hate stakeouts. Definitely the worst part of the job,’ _ she thought to herself as she puffed idly on her smoke.

She had received an anonymous tip last week that a new gin joint had popped up in the area but not its location. Since then, she had wasted most of her nights lurking inconspicuously in alleyways looking for the hidden entrance.  _ ‘These damn bootleggers are getting better at hiding their tracks each year. What part of Prohibition did these people not understand?’  _ Despite police efforts, more and more speakeasies and other dens of scandal, sin, and corruption kept popping up each year, undaunted by the threat of raids. 

In many ways it was worth the risk; it certainly was a lucrative payout if one managed to get their foot in the door and dig in a foothold. A few years in the business would line the bar owner’s pockets well enough that they could start paying off low-level politicians and allay suspicions. From there it became a compounding issue. As more money and more power exchanged hands, the more unstoppable and untouchable they became, operating right under the nose of the law. In short, they were getting bolder and stronger and there wasn’t much the police force could do about it.

In addition to hunting down illicit drinking establishments, the police were also trying to combat the surge in gang activity, further dividing efforts for maintaining law and order. Violent acts between rival gangs were near nightly occurrences and had just become an accepted way of life for the innocent bystanders trying to get by. The worst gangs were led by notorious crime bosses like Al Capone and Bugs Moran that had huge networks and resources at their disposal, but there were hundreds of smaller gangs and crime families operating in the Windy City. The police force was just ill-equipped and underprepared to deal with everything going on in the city. 

To make matters worse, Hermione also suspected the possibility (likelihood) that several high ranking police officials may have succumbed to the temptations of bribes and payouts. Sometimes the facts just didn’t line up or seemed too organized to be considered mere coincidence. In extreme (thankfully rare) cases, complete files went missing or incriminating evidence was ‘accidentally’ destroyed in transit. Regardless, appearances of a strong law front must be upheld for the sake of the public and they didn’t have time or officers to track down new leads while dealing with the very long list of other issues. 

In this time of desperation, the police council had secretly suspended the ban on women serving on the force. For the past year or so, Hermione and a small network of women worked behind the scenes, not officially, of course. If one were to check the logs, there would be no record of their activity but the results of their work were still being put to use daily. Their objective was simple: gather information and feed their findings back to the officials to do whatever they needed to do. Spies. Without the job title or pay grade. 

Hermione knew that she was getting paid less than her male counterparts and doing double the work, but that was fine. It was better than sitting around as a housewife or being chained to a desk as a secretary. She didn’t need to rely on anyone but herself to provide for her needs - something that not many women could claim in 1925. And she genuinely enjoyed her work. It played well to her skills of observation and logic and gave her the freedom she craved, and despite being out in the open, it was relatively safe. For once sexism worked in their favor and allowed her unit to operate in plain sight because who would ever suspect a bunch of women? 

She took one more drag and flicked the smoldering butt to the ground, stomping it with the heel of her boot. She cupped her hands in front of her face, blowing hot air onto them to try warm up her fingers a bit before jamming them roughly into her coat pockets.  _ And the waiting game continued. _

Every now and then she would lean forward and look down the alley. From her vantage point she could see both ends well enough to watch passersby strolling along and hear the sputtering ans honking of Model T automobiles. Despite her boredom, she stayed vigilant, not wanting to miss a single moment.

Eventually her fingers had regained enough feeling that she decided they could handle exposure to the chilly Chicago night and she pulled out her box of smokes. She had little else to do to pass the time. She had just put a cigarette between her lips and was reaching for her book of matches when giggling suddenly caught her attention. She peered around the corner of her hiding spot and saw a man and a woman approaching, already swaying a little. She watched them closely, carefully tucking away her cigarette and matches. 

They were young, around her age. Mid-twenties, maybe less. The man was in a simple suit and the woman was in a shapeless shift dress that was far shorter than was considered proper, her reddish blonde hair styled in a wavy bob. Hermione rolled her eyes as the couple continued their path, unaware they were being watched and drawing far too much attention to themselves. They weren’t even bothering to lower their voices as they strolled through the ‘deserted’ alleyway. She could hear them clearly even before they walked by her.

“I heard there’s gonna be a new singer tonight… a real bombshell from the sounds of it. Just popped up on the circuit last month.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier! I was looking forward to a jazz night.” Hermione could practically hear the pout in the woman’s voice. “I wanted to dance tonight.”

“You will my darling, let’s just give it a shot and if you don’t like it we can leave.” The man tried to soothe her.

“If you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“I know so… Ah, here we are.”

Hermione stuck her head completely out of the hidden alcove, certain they wouldn’t look back and see her. The couple seemed very focused on their plans for the evening.

The pair had come to a stop at the back door of what appeared to be a simple factory shop the next building over. An old timey gas lamp still burned dimly over the door, casting a pale glow on the exposed brick wall. ‘ _ Good instincts, Granger,’  _ she silently congratulated herself for picking up on that subtle difference earlier, which had prompted her to find her current lookout spot. Most lights had been converted to electricity by now so that detail had struck her as odd. Once again, her skills of observation paid dividends.

The man approached the door and boldly knocked three times before taking a step back. A slot in the door opened a second later. Hermione couldn’t hear what was said from behind the door but the young man clearly said, “Never tickle a sleeping dragon.” Hermione furrowed her brow. She had heard some strange passwords, but this one took the cake.

Seconds later the slightly inebriated couple stepped through the opened door and disappeared down a set of steps.

“Gotcha,” Hermione whispered, grinning to herself. Now she could go home and finally get some well deserved rest.

“So, I don’t get it, you found the place. Why aren’t you just giving up the location and the coppers raid it out? Ya know, get paid and move on to the next job?” Ginny raised an eyebrow as she nursed her second cup of coffee, still annoyed at having been disturbed so early. The redhead usually kept to a ‘no work before noon’ policy, one that Hermione frequently trampled all over. At least the promise of coffee helped soothe the woman’s fiery temper and got her to listen to whatever business needed discussing.

“Because we keep running around in circles chasing down individual establishments, and by the time they bust one joint, three more have popped up! But I think we’ve been going about it all wrong. We need to think bigger. All these places are probably part of a network anyway. At least that’s my theory.” Hermione gestured excitedly. 

She had been thinking about this plan for months and now she finally had a lead. Her first step was to call in the back up and get them on board. Without help she knew she had a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding. Even with the extra assistance, it was still iffy. Big risks often lead to even bigger rewards... at least that's what Hermione was banking on. 

“I think that if we can infiltrate, we might be able to get even more information and follow the breadcrumbs up the ladder. But that means playing our cards right and not tipping them off before we’re ready.” Hermione paused and took a calculated sip of her beverage, allowing time for her idea to settle. 

“How do you propose this?” Luna had been staring dreamily out the window of the small coffee shop where the three women were tucked away. It was a little unnerving how she appeared to be completely disengaged from a conversation but was quite aware of what was going on around her.

“Simple,” Hermione smirked, unable to hold in her smugness. She grabbed a cigarette and lit it, idly taking a drag before she dropped her big news. “I got the password.”

Ginny all but spat out her coffee in surprise, slamming her cup noisily onto the saucer as she sputtered and coughed. The blonde sitting next to her gently patted her on the back. 

“Are you serious? You want to go undercover? We’re not supposed to engage! That’s like, rule number one. We get the info and the coppers get the glory of raiding the place out.” The redhead hissed under her breath once she had regained her composure, her eyes darting around to check if anyone might be listening in. “This is big, Granger. Once you cross the line, there’s no going back. What if they recognize you? Especially if what you think is true and those guys are all in each other’s business. There will be nowhere to hide if you get caught.”

“Well, I’d better not get caught then.” Hermione shrugged and flicked her ash into the tray, adjusting the sleeve of her grey jacket. She knew that her friend and colleague was absolutely right. This was a whole different ball game that came with significantly increased risk. But she had given this a lot of thought over the past few months and the decision was clear to her. She was tired of chasing her tail in circles. She wanted to make an impact (and a name for herself). If they were successful, perhaps the police commission would finally see the value of their work and give them the recognition and compensation they deserved. 

“I thought you were the brave and reckless one. Never thought you’d back down from a challenge, Weasley.” Hermione challenged, taunting the redhead. She knew that the easiest way to reel in her quarry was to insinuate that she wasn’t up to snuff. Ginevra Weasley would never let a slight on her abilities go unanswered.

“I… Now you wait just a -“

“I’m in.” Luna hummed softly, her large blue eyes drifted over to the brunette, ignoring the pointed glare from the woman next to her. “I assume that was your whole goal in bringing us here? To tell us the plan and see if we wanted to help?”

Hermione simply nodded and took another drag before snuffing out the cigarette. “Just like that?” She looked like a dragon exhaling smoke as she talked. 

“I don’t see why not. Frankly it will be easier for you to get inside if you have a lady on your arm. A couple out for a night on the town will draw far less attention than a bloke strolling in alone. I assume that was your plan at least. It makes sense, you can pull off the androgynous look well when you want to. Well enough to fool others, I dare say. Not to mention that I can’t imagine you ever wearing a dress. You look rather dapper in your suit by the way, is it new?”

“It is, thank you for noticing. And you are correct, I would assume a male role.” Hermione subconsciously crossed her legs, even though she knew her friends were aware of her anatomy and didn’t mind. She added after a brief pause, “Besides, the dresses nowadays are so short and I’d rather not leave anything to chance or draw unnecessary attention.” 

“Now hold on a minute. I can’t let you two just go running headlong into dangerous territory! You’re gonna need all the help you can get with this rogue mission!” The redhead interjected.

Hermione just smiled at Ginny’s roundabout way of agreeing to help. “Good, now that that’s settled. So who is coming with me tonight?”

“Wow, Gin, you clean up nice.” Hermione casually leaned against the wall opposite from the woman’s apartment. Like herself, the redhead preferred an independent lifestyle. She was wearing a navy blue shift dress with lots of fringe, her fiery hair styled into a bob that framed her face. A simple shiny silver headpiece adorned her head. She had a warm fur jacket tucked on her arm to ward off the cold later. It was a perfectly ordinary look. Enough to fit in but not stand out. 

“You, too, Granger.” Ginny stepped out and locked her front door. “Luna was right, you make a pretty convincing man…”

“Thank you and I should hope so, the success of this mission depends on it. But we're burning daylight, shall we be off, mi’lady?” Hermione teased and offered her arm, escorting her ‘date’ for the evening like a proper gentlewoman. Like Ginny, she had gone for the inconspicuous look, donning a sharp yet simple suit: a black jacket and matching trousers with a white button up underneath. She had her hair set in a tight bun, hidden under a black fedora with a red feather tucked in the white band. She just couldn’t bring herself to cut her hair to match the popular women’s hairstyle. Besides, her curls would make the upkeep an absolute nightmare. 

“You do know that we’re on our own if we get caught. Not even Harry or my brothers will be able to help us.” Ginny spoke quietly as they casually strolled through the street arm in arm. 

“Getting cold feet are we?” Hermione retorted with a teasing scoff as she led the way to the hidden entrance she found. They couldn’t risk hailing a cab. Best to keep their interactions with others to a minimum; too many loose ends otherwise. 

In their line of work the devil was in the details. Hermione had seen it happen many times before. People usually got caught or identified because they were sloppy or simply overlooked seemingly extraneous details that got traced back to the source. They didn’t have the luxury of letting their guard down or getting complacent. It was job termination and a fine or even jail time if the police caught wind. But a fate much worse than a jail cell was in their future if they got caught by the wrong people. 

“Sometimes you need to bend some rules to get to the goal. A means to an end, even if I have to turn a blind eye and have a drink to fit in. It will be worth it in the end. I’m sure of it.” Hermione continued, waving her hand casually. Truthfully she was a little nervous to be moving forward with the plan but she had already made up her mind and was going to see this through.

“I suppose. My brothers would throw a fit if they knew what we were doing.”

“Probably. Then they’d line up to kick my ass for putting you in danger. Despite helping us land these jobs, they’re very protective of you.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. Even Ron! It’s not easy being the youngest and only girl out of seven kids.”

“Can’t relate. Once my parents had me they were worried about any future children having my affliction and they stopped. At least they didn’t give me away.”

Ginny snorted. “It’s not an affliction, despite what the doctors say. Just makes you unique.”

“True, and I guess in this case it is a blessing. At least it will help sell this ruse. I’d raise some eyebrows if I went in dressed as a man but had to use the ladies’ room.”

“Still jealous of that by the way,” Ginny rolled her eyes and chuckled. “You dress like a man most days.” 

“Mm, true. I find the clothes more comfortable. I’ll take trousers over dresses any day of the week. I will say binding is a pain though, definitely not the most pleasant experience.”

“Definitely not jealous of that.”

They walked in companionable silence or made small talk for the remainder of the way to the speakeasy. Despite their conversation, both women were subtly looking around and gathering information along the way. Always on the lookout. Constant vigilance as the Captain reminded them repeatedly. 

Moody ran a tight ship and was a hard ass. Fair, but still a hard ass. Hermione had come to respect the scarred senior officer during her time ‘serving’ on the force. Due to his hard work, their precinct was one of the few clean stations around, no dirty cops. Another bonus. She didn’t have time for backstabbing rats.

“This is it,” Hermione whispered to her companion as she turned them down the familiar alley toward. “If asked, the code is ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon.’ We go in, lie low and observe. Intel gathering only. And whatever we do, don’t stand out. We definitely don’t want to raise suspicions or gain anyone’s attention. Any questions?”

“Nope, all clear. Let’s do this.” Ginny’s eyes were full of apprehension but also excitement. Hermione could relate. She was nervous but the thrill of the mission outweighed any doubts she had. It was one thing to stand around and watch but entering the belly of the beast was a whole different can of worms. 

She approached the door and knocked three times.

The bar was dark with minimal focused lighting behind the bar and on the small stage. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke and had a slight musty smell typical of most basements. Despite its simplicity, it was well furnished and decorated with dark woods and velvet upholstery. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which Hermione wanted to peruse but left them alone, despite her burning curiosity. Dozens of small tables and booths lit by small oil lamps were scattered around the open plan. This just furthered Hermione’s theory that this establishment was part of a bigger network. Not many individuals could fund such an operation without seed money. Whoever opened this place either knew people in high places or they were the person in high places. 

The two women ordered their drinks and found their way to a table to the side of the stage to wait for the night’s entertainment. Aside from a piano, there were no instruments on the stage and Hermione passively wondered if it was the singer the man mentioned the night before. 

She and Ginny shared light conversation to allay suspicions but both women were carefully listening to the quiet conversations taking place around them, trying to glean any useful information. 

A spotlight switched on, highlighting the stage and getting everyone’s attention. The already quiet bar went dead silent as heads turned to watch as a lone figure stepped out from behind the heavy burgundy curtain. No one dared to speak, hell no one dared to breathe as they watched. 

The woman that had taken the stage was breathtaking. If she hadn’t already preferred women before this night, Hermione definitely would have been considering it now. She carefully studied her, for observational purposes and research, of course. Purely innocent. At least that’s what she was telling herself. 

Despite her instant attraction, she kept her thoughts to herself and her face composed. A cursory glance around the room told her that she was an outlier here. Most of the men (and some women) gazed lecherously at her, their eyes dark with hunger and thinly concealed desire. Even Ginny was watching with a keen interest. _'_

_She looks like a real heartbreaker,'_ Hermione thought to herself, her eyes fixed on the blonde before her.

The femme fatale on stage wore a slinky floor length silver satin dress that clung to her slender body, accentuating her curves beautifully. The dress had thin straps and a modest neckline that left her pale shoulders and upper arms exposed but otherwise gave nothing away. Just enough to leave her audience wondering and wanting more. Black velvet gloves covered her arms up to the elbow. Her platinum blonde hair was kept long and styled in cascading curls that draped over her shoulder; the silky locks had an almost silver sheen in the lighting. Her silver headband and matching necklace were adorned with elegant white feathers and jewels that glittered in the dim light. Hermione wondered if they were real diamonds. It wouldn’t have surprised her if they were.

The spotlight lit up her face, highlighting her features: delicate nose, well-defined high cheekbones, and full red lips. A chiseled jawline gave way to a long, slender neck. But what was truly captivating to Hermione was her eyes. They shone like flawless sapphires. She had never seen eyes with such depth before. They were fierce, serious, intelligent, full of secrets. They drew her in. Just like the woman herself. The performer could have started spewing gibberish and Hermione couldn’t have cared less. She was hooked.  _ Shit. _

The blonde confidently stepped forward and took her mark, pausing for a moment to look out into the crowd. Hermione’s heart stuttered when she felt that arctic gaze stop on her before moving on. Was it her imagination and hopeful dreaming or did a slight smile tug at the corner of those pouty red lips?

“You’re staring.” Ginny hissed, almost inaudibly. 

“Am not.” Hermione lied through gritted teeth. 

If she had thought the performer was alluring before, she was not at all prepared for hearing her sing. Her voice was like a rich velvet, low and sultry and made Hermione practically melt in her chair. She was completely captivated from the moment the first notes filled her ears. All she could do was listen and watch. And she wasn’t the only one. It was like the room had fallen under the woman’s spell, listening with rapt and undivided attention. 

Hermione was vaguely aware of the fact that the performer sang entirely in French and even though she didn’t understand a single word, she could  _ feel _ it. Each note evoked a surprising depth of feeling. Like an artist used paints and pencils, the singer used her voice to create a mural of emotions in her mind’s eye. 

The blonde performed several numbers, some lively and upbeat while others more subdued and gentle. One almost sounded like a lullaby. Some were done a capella and others had a piano accompaniment. Hermione didn’t know when the other person entered the stage, nor did she care. She only had eyes for one.

The final song of the evening was an a capella tune with a beautiful yet haunting melody. Hermione was struck by the sheer contrast between the mood of the song and the ones from earlier in the evening. It was full with a sense of hopeful longing laced with deep sorrow. While the other songs were more like performances, this one felt pure and honest. It left her with the distinct impression that it was sung directly from the heart. It made her wonder what the woman was thinking of when she sang it.

Hermione lay awake that night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She was still thinking of the evening, trying to focus on work (which had been a bust), but she couldn’t get over the performer. The woman’s mysterious and her seemingly dichotomous nature filled her with intrigue and left her wanting to know more. 

A vision of sapphire eyes was the last thing she remembered before sleep finally took her.

After the initial night, Hermione started frequenting  _ The Library _ , alternating between Ginny and Luna. After a few weeks they had started to gather some promising information and they had decided it was time to divide and conquer. Ginny and Luna would follow up on the different leads and Hermione would continue to try to gather information to feed to them. By now the bartenders all knew her and she had become somewhat of a regular so she didn’t feel uncomfortable coming alone. 

She sat at the bar for her first night working solo, sipping on a Gin Rickey and keeping her eyes down and ears open. She had to admit, she had developed a bit of a taste for alcohol and was starting to sympathize with the other bar goers. At the same time she was well aware of the fact that they were all operating well outside the bounds of the law. Even though she rationalized her actions as a means to an end, she was still in the wrong. 

It was jazz night tonight. She was sorely disappointed when she saw the instruments sitting on the stage when she entered the basement lounge. Secretly she was wishing it was the French singer. Though she would never admit it out loud, she had developed a bit of a crush on the elegant blonde but she had only seen her perform while she was ‘on a date,’ so she couldn’t approach her after her set.

She didn’t look up when she heard the chair next to her scrape across the wood floor. 

“Drinking alone tonight? Where are your little girlfriends?”

She froze with her drink midway to her lips when she heard the person next to her address her, a distinctive French lilt filled her ears. She had not been expecting this at all.

Hermione slowly turned in her seat, trying to play it cool but she knew her eyes were wide, betraying her shock as she gazed into the endless pools of sapphire that belonged to the one and only Silver Swan. 

It turned out to be a fitting name for the performer. All of her gowns were made of expensive silver fabric and she had the most wonderful sloping neck, usually accompanied by a fashionable necklace, that Hermione would have loved to pepper with soft kisses. Tonight was no exception. Hermione quickly noted that her fringed dress was shorter than her usual floor length gowns when she performed, barely covering her knees. A string of pearls hung from her neck and she wore a silver band about her head with an ornate center pendant with a few white feathers. She looked like she was ready for a night on the town.

“They’re not my girlfriends.” Hermione’s response tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. _‘Smooth one, Granger, way to sound like a complete idiot,_ ’ she cringed internally.

“Mm, well, lucky me then. I happen to be here alone as well. Perhaps we might share a drink? Unless you were waiting for someone else?”

“Oh, no, it’s just me… I’d love the company.” Hermione nodded quickly, trying to regain her composure and make up for her embarrassing first words to the woman that had been haunting her dreams for the past few weeks. She gestured to the bartender, “Please, get whatever you’d like.”

“A French 75, s'il vous plaît.” Hermione melted a little at the rich accent. She had heard the woman sing countless times but hearing her speak casually was so much better. Her words flowed like molten caramel and she suddenly had a sweet tooth. 

The man behind the bar grabbed the champagne, gin, and a lemon and started pouring while the blonde watched, scrutinizing his every move to make sure he made it to her standard.

“On the house,” he slid the finished drink across the mahogany counter toward her. His eyes held the same hunger that Hermione had noticed commonly graced the features of other patrons when the Swan performed. It made her bristle slightly. Also because he stole her thunder for buying the woman a drink.

“Mm, merci, monsieur.” The blonde’s attention immediately turned back to her once her drink was in hand. The singer’s easy dismissal of the bartender reassured Hermione and made her beam on the inside.

“You’re not working tonight?” Hermione asked after taking a drink to build up her courage. 

“Non, I do enjoy a night off every now and then. I must say, the view is much better from here than on the stage.” She shivered involuntarily as blue eyes shamelessly raked down her body. 

Hermione gulped and fished her box of cigarettes from her coat pocket. A smoke would help calm her down. She still couldn’t believe that the Silver Swan was voluntarily spending time with her and blatantly flirting with her. Her mind was running haywire and she would be damned if she blew this opportunity. 

She held the box out, offering one to the performer first. The Swan accepted, casually allowing her fingertips to graze over Hermione’s knuckle, causing the already flustered woman to blush even more. She was grateful for the dark lighting in the hidden bar, certain that her face was as red as a fire engine. Once the blonde was taken care of she hastily grabbed and lit her own cigarette, immediately taking a deep drag to settle her nerves.

“So, Miss Swan… should I call you that or would you prefer Silver Swan?”

“Well, I would quite prefer  _ le cygne d'argent _ but Miss Swan will do.” 

Hermione nodded, not willing to make a fool of herself and attempt the foreign language. She was feeling tongue tied enough as she struggled through basic English. She had been trying her best not to react as she listened to the blonde speak, but the French words sounded incredibly sexy and a chill ran unbidden up her spine. She gazed dumbly for a second, once again cursing at her inability to form words.

“And what may I call you?”

“Oh… right… Miss-ter Granger.” Hermione had almost forgotten her ruse because of a pair of beautiful eyes and silky accent.  _ Some spy. _ In her defense, she was hired for her observational skills, not her powers of conversation (or lack thereof).

“Well, Miss-ter Granger, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The inflection told her that the blonde had picked up on her slip and she was seriously considering making a run for it. 

Apparently the singer was reading her like an open book because a satin-covered hand found its way to her knee, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Hermione’s breath caught in her lungs when the woman leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Your secret is safe with me.” Warm breath tickled her neck before the Swan sat back and took a drag of her cigarette.

“Uh, thanks…” Hermione blushed for the second time in under a minute and took a drink to clear her throat. “So, you been singing long? I don’t remember seeing you around here before.”

“Ah, oui, I have been singing all my life, but not in this city. My family moved here recently from New York, and we lived in Paris before that.”

“Well, you’ve certainly made an impression in a short time.” Hermione offered a smile, which only broadened when it was returned. Feeling encouraged, she continued the conversation with a newfound confidence. “So, Paris, huh? I hear it’s beautiful there. What brought you all here then?”

“Oh, it is lovely, you should go if you have the opportunity. There is nothing like it.” The Swan’s demeanor visibly brightened at the memory of her hometown. She paused and took a drink and a drag before continuing, exhaling out the mouth and immediately inhaling the smoke back into her nose. It was fascinating to watch. “As for the rest, my family is in shipping and logistics of fine goods. We could not pass up the opportunities available here.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Hermione was feeling more in her groove now once her shock had worn off. She was pleased to note that the performer looked to be enjoying her company as well. “So, why the stage name? Don’t you want people to know who you really are?”

“Mmm, perhaps I prefer privacy or maybe I am just selective about who I choose to meet. And you must agree, there is a certain allure to the mystery, non?”

Hermione gulped and adjusted her tie,  _ was it suddenly hot in here? _ “Ye-Yeah, I can see that. I’d imagine it would be really annoying to get stopped by people all the time if they knew who you really were. I’m certainly glad I’m not famous.”

“True, but also it is for my own safety. I think it goes without saying that it is rather illegal work I do, singing in establishments such as this. In France we do not have this silly Prohibition, the wine flows like water.” 

“What is it like there?” Hermione was completely entranced, basking in the glow of her company. 

“There is nothing like it. Such culture, such innovation. The lights and music!” She eagerly shared, her eyes distant as if she were imagining herself back there, wandering the streets or perhaps gazing on the Eiffel Tower. Her smile faded and a soft frown marred her perfect features. “This was before the war of course. My family… we were fortunate to have escaped before the depression set in. We still maintain our connections but I have not been back since, so in my mind I have nothing but untainted memories of youth. I sometimes wonder how my beloved Paris has changed in the last ten years. I imagine it is a very different place now. I had wanted to go back for the World’s Fair this year but alas it was not in the cards for me. C’est la vie.”

Hermione sobered as she listened. She had not even considered that this young woman would have experienced war so closely. From her own experience the War felt very distant, fought between countries in Europe with little immediate impact on her daily life. “Well, I’m glad you were able to get out and you seem to be well adjusted here.”

“Oui, I was very fortunate. My family had the means to escape but sadly that was not the case for many of my countrymen and women.” The performer took another drag of her cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. 

Hermione nodded and followed suit, turning slightly when she heard the band start playing. “Do you like jazz?”

“Oui! I love it, it is very lively. Come, indulge me.” Slender, gloved fingers found her own and Hermione found herself being pulled out onto the bustling dance floor before she could protest. She was not the most graceful, but she gave it her all, eager to please her impromptu dance partner. She could feel jealous eyes watching them but she didn’t care. She was too focused on the woman in front of her. The blonde looked very relaxed, smiling openly as she bounced and swayed through the steps of the Charleston. 

They danced several numbers, laughing and smiling before the singer led them off the floor, fingers once again laced together. Hermione did not mind in the slightest.

The rest of the evening was a blur, conversation, drinks, and dancing seemed to be the only items on their agenda. That is until it came time to leave. Hermione nearly fell out of her chair when the Swan suggested they leave together. She immediately agreed and the pair left  _ the Library _ arm in arm. Once back on the street, Hermione hailed the first available cab to take them to her flat for what she was certain would be a night to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Fun fact, the Library is an actual speakeasy that I’ve been to, though I adjusted the description slightly to fit the story. There wasn’t a performance space but the other descriptions were pretty accurate. Also they serve your drink in teacups! And it fit so perfectly for Hermione, I just couldn’t resist.
> 
> Huge thanks to rice_and_beans and Psychological_Top for betaing this piece!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you don't like the smut, do not proceed. Also if you somehow missed the GP tag, here's a warning, too.

Hermione awoke feeling stiff and more than slightly hungover, the bitterness of alcohol still lingering in the back of her throat. A dense fog had settled in her brain, blocking out most rational thought and made her feel rather sluggish and unmotivated to do anything other than lie still. Her head was pounding and her eyes refused to open. Even with the drawn blinds the morning light was too much. _Never again..._

She felt hot. Too hot. Was she sick? Her body was sticky as if she had sweat profusely the night before, and the cotton sheets clung uncomfortably to her body, making her feel rather claustrophobic. She kicked off the blanket and was greeted by an entirely unexpected sight. She was laying there as naked as the day she was born. _Strange, I never sleep naked,_ she thought. 

She closed her eyes, glad for the relief the chilly air brought her, vaguely aware of a morning partial erection. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wake up in some state of arousal, especially when she had thoughts of the Silver Swan to keep her company in her dreams.

“What the hell happened last night?” She mumbled, her voice hoarse and raspy with sleep. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as if that would relieve some of the throbbing pressure in her skull. It didn’t. 

Finally feeling sufficiently chilled, she groaned and rolled over, pulling the sheets and blanket back over her head to hide from the tormenting sunlight streaming through her window. Or tried to at least. The quilt seemed to be caught on something. “What?” She tugged harder and this time was met with a muffled moan of displeasure.

“Non, chérie, just five more minutes.” Hermione froze. _What. The. Fuck?_ She would recognize that voice anywhere, even when it was heavy with sleep and muffled by layers of blanket. But that would mean…

The Silver Swan emerged from her pile of blankets, somehow looking radiant as ever even after sleep. Her silvery-blonde hair was perfectly mussed, her deep sapphire eyes slightly cloudy and unfocused, her lips still deep pink and swollen. Hermione swallowed thickly as the blanket fell off her shoulders as she sat up, revealing the most perfect set of breasts she had ever seen, marred only by love bites and bruises from the night before.

“You look surprised to see me, chérie. You have not forgotten me already have you?” The blonde bombshell chuckled, propping herself up on her elbows; her eyes now twinkling mischievously. 

Hermione’s mouth was bone dry as her eyes shamelessly raked over the goddess in her bed, her tongue darted out in an attempt to wet her chapped lips. She was struggling to process the situation, her mouth opening and closing but no sounds were coming out. How the hell did she get the Silver Swan into her bed? She was _never_ this lucky. Not that she put much effort into it. Dating wasn’t exactly easy for a woman sporting a penis, so a one night stand was even more foreign to her. 

“Mmm… speechless I see… What happened, mm? You were quite vocal last night.” The Swan purred, reaching out to cup her jaw, her thumb gently stroking her cheek. 

Finally regaining use of her tongue, she squeaked out as she leaned into the touch, “Last night… Did we…” she gestured between their naked forms.

“Mm, oui, and it was rather magical. Although if you are having difficulty remembering, perhaps we should, as they say in the business, perform an encore? Jog that memory of yours?”

Hermione barely had time to nod before lips crashed against her own and deceptively strong hands pushed her onto her back. The kiss was sloppy and frantic, their tongues exploring and pressing together in a rhythmic dance. The woman’s silky silver locks fell across her chest, tickling her wonderfully - a stark contrast to the scratchy cotton sheets beneath her. Her head swam with the scent of perfume, sweat, and arousal; a dangerous combination that drove her wild. She wanted more. Needed more. She groaned and moved to deepen the kiss even further. 

Hermione had always kept tight control over her urges but now she was ready to let everything go and succumb to her primal wants. She was filled with a deep hunger and it felt as if only the blonde could slake her lust. A feral desire had ignited deep in her belly and she was craving more. The fire burned brighter and hotter with each passing second, threatening to consume her. She felt like an animal acting on pure instinct and need, as if a switch had turned off her rational brain. In this moment all that mattered was the woman leaning over her, raking her nails along her rib cage. It was a delightful mix of pain and pleasure and she arched into the touch. 

Her hands were moving of their own accord, eager to touch anywhere they could reach. One found its way to the back of the Swan’s neck, fingers threading into the the fine hairs and holding her close. The other played with a full breast, massaging and squeezing. She pinched the stiff rosy nipple between her thumb and finger, earning a soft moan before teeth bit down on her bottom lip.

Suddenly and without warning, the Swan moved away, pulling her head back to gaze at her lover. 

Hermione struggled not to whine at the sudden loss of contact but swallowed her displeasure when she saw the look on the other woman’s face. Usually clear sapphires were dark with lust, pupils blown so wide only a slight ring of blue was visible, and locked with her own. 

The singer bit her lip in the most teasing and seductive manner before moving her leg across the brunette’s lap, straddling her. She was moving at an agonizingly slow pace that was driving her insane, but Hermione wasn't about to rush her, content to sit back and watch. The blonde maintained eye contact as she finally lowered herself down, rolling her hips in the process.

Hermione almost cried out when she felt the slick, hot core pressing down on her member, grinding against it. The heat was unbearable, teasing her, leaving her wanting more. She desperately wanted to be inside, feel the warmth envelope her. She rocked her hips in tandem with the Swan’s motions, eagerly seeking relief. 

“Mm, you were so good to me last night, let me be good for you. You will allow me to return the favor, oui?”

“Fuck… whatever you want. I’m yours.” Hermione gasped, her voice deep and husky. She didn’t know when an opportunity like this would present itself again and she sure as hell was not going to waste any time being disagreeable. 

The tiny voice of reason in the back of her mind was yelling at her, but she shoved it down, locked it up, and threw away the key. She knew that she was breaking protocol on so many levels but she couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment, not with a blonde goddess straddling her and riding her like this. Hermione groaned and reached out to take the singer by the hips, gripping her firmly but not enough to bruise or leave a mark.

Without breaking her rhythm, the Swan grinned mischievously and leaned forward to capture her lips again; her hands pushing on her chest was a surprisingly pleasant weight. Unlike before the kiss was slower, sensual. There was undeniable passion and heat to it that was driving Hermione wild.

Hermione willingly gave in and submitted, relinquishing control to the performer and allowing her to set the pace. She was placing a lot of trust in someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but she couldn’t care less. 

Slender fingers sent shivers down her spine and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake as a hand traveled lower and lower. The Swan was teasing her with her deliberate movements, winding her up with anticipation and want. She was just about to lose all semblance of self control and beg when she felt soft skin gripping her member, stroking it languidly between their bodies. Any sounds that managed to escape her lips were instantly swallowed in their kiss. 

“Mm, you feel so good in my hand.” The Swan whispered against her lips, “But I can think of a better use for you…”

Hermione whimpered as the blonde thumbed across the sensitive head, slick with the woman’s arousal. “Fuck. Please. I need you.” She panted, hips still rocking to match the slow grinding roll of the hips above her as she searched for relief. 

“Bon, since you asked so nicely.”

Hermione’s vision temporarily flashed white when she felt the woman sink down onto her length; the hot, tight walls squeezed her deliciously and she instinctively bucked her hips, causing the Swan to gasp out. As much as she wanted to watch, the sensations were overwhelming: her eyes screwed shut, head thrown back against the pillow, back arching high off the mattress. She was seeing stars as the blonde worked the thick cock deeper into her scorching heat. 

“Oh my God…” she ground out when she felt herself fully sheathed. Hip to hip, their skin flush without an inch of distance between them. It felt like a perfect fit, like the Swan was made for her and she was made for the Swan. She lay there panting softly, her mouth hanging open slightly, vision still swimming. It was so much. Almost too much. Everything she had hoped for and more. She recovered from her sensory overload after a few seconds, her head snapping back as she watched the woman slowly lift up a few inches then drop back down. 

“Fuck!” She hissed. She dug her fingertips harder into the Swan’s pale skin, encouraging her to do that again.

The Frenchwoman obliged and repeated the action. Again. And again. And again. 

They quickly found a steady rhythm, Hermione letting the blonde take the lead at first but once she got the pace she started moving her hips to meet stroke for stroke. The air was heavy with the sounds and smells of sex. The moans and whimpers came faster as their pace increased; both women desperately chasing their high. 

Hermione could feel the Swan getting close to her peak. The tight, warm walls fluttering and clenching around her, gripping her length perfectly, driving her closer to her own completion. She knew she wasn’t going to last much longer and she was desperate to give this woman everything she had before she lost control.

Her hands moved from their positions at the blonde’s hips; one sliding up to the Swan’s breasts and the other moving to thumb over her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Oh, fuck. Mon Dieu… More, I’m so close…” the singer was keening, pressing her chest into her hand to signal what she wanted. Hermione’s ego surged from getting this reaction from her lover and she tweaked a hardened nipple, earning her a string of incoherent French words. 

Their eyes locked for a split second before the blonde’s coil snapped and she cascaded over the edge in the most glorious display of pleasure. The sight and sound of her climax would be permanently ingrained in Hermione's memory: head thrown back, the chords of her neck straining as a low moan escaped her lips, back arched like a bow, skin glistening with sweat, her entire body shaking. It was enough to push Hermione over her own edge and she spilled herself deep inside that perfect core. She kept pumping her hips, albeit slower than before, eager to draw out their pleasure and bring them back down to earth. 

Exhausted, the performer collapsed forward so they were lying chest to chest with her head buried in the crook of her neck. Hermione’s arms encircled the blonde and held her close, finding a great deal of comfort in the intimate embrace. It was silly considering they had just spent the morning fucking, but this simple touch filled her with a different kind of warmth she had never felt before. She buried her nose in the silky blonde locks, inhaling the woman’s scent. She smelled like jasmine and vanilla, sweet and subtle, in addition to the scent of their recent activity. It was intoxicating and made her already fuzzy brain drift even further from the shore without a lifeline. 

They lay like this for several long minutes as they recovered, each seeming to take comfort in the other’s touch. It was the Swan to first break the silence, shifting her head so she could gaze into soft chocolate eyes.

“Mmm, that was something, oui? Definitely worth remembering?” 

“Baby, I will never forget this.” 

“Me, too. I’m just sorry that it must end here.”

“Wait, what?” Hermione sputtered. Deep down she knew this was going to happen but it still stung. But it was for the best. She couldn’t afford to get involved, especially with her line of work. It would put the singer in danger if the wrong people found out about their little fling. 

“Chérie, it is better this way. There are things you do not know about me, just as there are things I do not know about you. Our secrets protect us in the end. You of all people know this.” 

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any easier,” Hermione reluctantly acquiesced.

“True… I should get going.” The Swan gracefully sat up, finally sliding off of the now limp member. She planted several soft kisses on her lips but did not move to deepen them. Anything else was just drawing out the inevitable. A clean cut, that’s what they both needed. 

Hermione sat up, propped up on her elbows as she watched the blonde silently move around the room, committing every inch of flawless pale skin to memory. The performer left the bedroom without a second look, the soft click of the front door the only sign she had left.

“Well, fuck.” Hermione whispered at the ceiling as she flopped back on her bed, her body tingling and her mind racing. _That did not go to plan at all._

“Wait, let me get this right… you had sex? With the Silver Swan? The _Silver Swan_ had sex with you?!” Ginny exclaimed in a whispered hiss over afternoon coffee. 

Hermione had spent the rest of the morning after the Swan’s departure debating whether or not she wanted to tell anyone about her night and morning. In the end she decided she needed to come clean to both Ginny and Luna since her actions may have just compromised their entire mission. She had royally fucked up. She knew that she couldn’t return to _the Library_ after this, she couldn’t face seeing the French singer again. 

“I don’t see what you are so surprised about. She did watch you rather closely. Didn’t you notice?” Luna added dreamily, unperturbed by the stares of disbelief and continued gazing out the window. “I can’t see a fault in her logic. Hermione is a good looking woman and I’m sure she was a satisfactory bed partner.”

Hermione blanched and almost spit out her coffee, “ _Satisfactory!?_ I’ll have you know I was more than just _satisfactory_!” 

A broad grin spread across the redhead’s face “Oh, do tell… Was she any good or is she just a pretty face and a total bust in bed? Did she let you go all the way or just your hands and mouth? How long did you last? Did you make her scream? Did she talk dirty in French? Don’t be shy now, this is big news and I need all the details!” Ginny propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her closed fists, eagerly waiting.

“Ugh, must you always be so crass!? No, I’m not sharing any more than I already have. All you two need to know is that I can’t go back there and we’ll just have to follow up on what leads we have. I’m sorry for botching this. She just took me completely off guard and… despite how it turned out I can’t bring myself to regret anything. It was nice to be wanted for a change.” 

Hermione hung her head and stared down at her lap, unable to look at the two women sitting opposite of her. Her mind briefly wandered back to the night before. It had been amazing, not just the morning sex, but laughing and dancing with the French blonde. She had never connected with someone so easily before. For those few hours it was just them, as if the world had disappeared around them.

“I think it would be more detrimental for you to stop going, actually.” Luna turned her attention from the window; her pale blue eyes strangely focused. “Think about it. You’ve been going back there almost nightly for over a month. Think of our training. Operate as if we’re always being watched and observed, right? Well if it were reversed, wouldn’t you consider it strange if a regular suddenly stopped going? I think it would raise more suspicions. You’ve built this act and you can’t just drop it.”

“True,” Hermione conceded after considering Luna’s words for a few moments. She started worrying at her lip, “But what about the Swan?”

“You’re both professionals, are you not? What you two did was completely normal, you’re human and you have needs. And if it did turn into something more, people are quite capable of maintaining a relationship separate from their professional requirements.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, there was something about Luna’s words that raised a flag in the back of her mind. Her suspicions were confirmed when Ginny went bright red in the face, rivaling her hair. Chocolate brown eyes widened comically as that bit of information sank in. “Wait, you two!?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Well, we were gonna, I swear…” Ginny stammered, her blush now reaching the tips of her ears.

“Would it have made a difference if we had?” Luna smiled serenely, her tone calm and level. “Our relationship has no impact on our work and we’ve been able to hide it for many months now. I believe you and Miss Swan can do the same should you choose to pursue something together.”

A chill ran unbidden up Hermione’s spine as she thought that she would be able to see the object of her infatuation again. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I don’t think anything will come of it. She made it pretty clear.” She glumly added and took a sip of coffee to distract herself and hide her disappointment. Eager for a change of topic, she lit a cigarette and leaned back in her seat. “Don’t think you two are off the hook. Spill. Now.”

Hermione made her way back to _The Library_ that evening, uncharacteristically nervous and her stomach full of knots. After her long talk with Luna and Ginny that afternoon, she was finally convinced that she should continue her undercover work like the professional she was. She could compartmentalize her feelings and act as if nothing happened. She mustered her courage and did her best to calm her nerves as she reached up to knock on the door. 

Once inside she immediately took a seat at the bar, the same one she had occupied the night before. It was moderately busy this evening, no new or suspicious faces in the crowd. She quietly nursed a cocktail and kept to herself, subtly listening to nearby conversations as she waited for the inevitable. As the minutes ticked by, she could feel her heart rate picking up in anticipation, her palm sweating as she maintained a vice-like grip on her whisky highball.

The Swan was nothing if not punctual and at precisely 9pm a quiet gasp rippled through the small bar. As usual, all talking ceased and the other patrons watched with greedy, lecherous eyes as the alluring blonde singer took her mark. Hermione struggled to curb her unexpected jealousy. _You have no right to feel this way, it was just one night,_ she angrily chastised herself. 

Hermione didn’t dare turn around to watch her. She didn’t trust herself to look, worried that her carefully constructed mask might crack and shatter around her. She could feel those deep sapphires burning holes in the back of her head. Try as she might to clear her mind, images of their time together floated unbidden at the forefront of her memory. She schooled her facial expressions but her fist clenched so tight that her fingernails dug into her palm; a last ditch effort to distract herself. 

The performer started with one of her more melancholy a capella pieces. It was just as beautiful and haunting as the first time Hermione heard it, however she couldn’t help but notice a sadness lacing the French lyrics. While the other patrons were enjoying themselves, each new note felt like a dagger cutting straight into her heart. She finished her drink and left, not caring about the job. To hell with professionalism. She just needed to get away before she did something really stupid. 

An entire month passed this way; each night was a continuation of this strange game of cat and mouse. Hermione spent most of her time staring at a particularly interesting knot in the wood panel to the right of the stage rather than ogling the performer like she had in her early visits. The Swan would only emerge for her set and immediately disappeared behind the curtain after her last song. Neither woman was either brave enough or willing to approach the other, but each would sneak furtive glances when the opportunity presented itself. On the rare occasion that they did lock eyes, the gaze was intense and the tension between them lingered long after the connection was broken. Despite her pining, it was better that things turned out this way, Hermione reasoned. 

Hermione had worked out the Swan’s schedule after the first two weeks of going undercover, so when she entered the _Library_ on one of the singer’s scheduled nights she was surprised to see the stage set for a jazz band. ‘ _Odd_ , _maybe she’s taking the night off.’_ Hermione shrugged it off and went about her night as if nothing was out of place. 

Despite her calm outward appearance, there was an excitement bubbling just below the surface. She silently cursed the part of her mind that dared to hope that maybe the Swan would be there later to enjoy the evening. Despite her logical side telling her that it was a horrible idea, she had been considering approaching the blonde again. A small smile appeared on her lips at the thought of their reunion but it fell almost as quickly as it came. She had no right to wish for that. She had been such a coward, justifying her actions by claiming that she was respecting the Swan’s need for space. Her heart clenched miserably in her chest as she slammed the rest of her drink before ordering another. 

After a few hours she had gathered no new information and the blonde was a no show, so she paid her tab and wandered home alone. She quietly chastised herself for getting her hopes up as she trudged through the snowy streets. Bitter disappointment burned in her chest. She knew that she had blown her opportunity. She should have taken a stand. Now, she didn’t deserve a second chance with the woman of her dreams.

Hermione was one of the last ones loitering about in the _Library_ , idly swirling a cocktail straw through her Manhattan. It was the night before Christmas and she didn’t feel like going home just yet; her small apartment no longer held the same charm for her. It felt lonely and cold, like a cage rather than a symbol of her independence that she had previously craved. She had started avoiding it as much as possible and the hidden bar was the only place she could go late at night. 

Her heart was feeling heavier than usual tonight and for once it wasn’t due to the missing Swan. She, Ginny, and Luna had decided that it was time to drop their side project. They had already spent nearly three months blindly chasing leads and clues and had nothing concrete to show for their efforts. Tomorrow she would give Moody the speakeasy’s location and the cops would raid the bar and the _Library_ would cease to exist. 

She felt a pang of guilt as she lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. She had come to enjoy this place and would sorely miss it. The dark, private atmosphere was oddly comforting to her. It made her feel like she had somewhere she belonged, even if she rarely interacted with anyone. At the same time, there wasn’t much draw for her anymore.

It had been two weeks since the French performer dropped off the grid without a trace. As time passed, Hermione became increasingly concerned and her thoughts started to wander to dark corners, worried that something bad had befallen the blonde. She was torn. She knew that it was ridiculous of her to worry or give so much thought to a woman who clearly didn’t care or return her affections, and it annoyed her how much power the missing singer still held. Hell, she didn’t even know the woman’s real name! But she couldn’t help it. She missed seeing her, hearing that velvet voice lulling the crowd and putting them under her spell. _Stop being ridiculous, Granger, you’re a professional! Act like it, damn it!_

She looked around and saw Mack the bartender wiping down tables and putting up chairs. A couple of men were deep in conversation in the corner, smoking and talking in hushed voices.

Since there was nothing else for her to do, she decided to just simply enjoy the rest of her time without a worry or care. She casually leaned forward, elbows propped on the bar as she finished her drink and smoke, half listening to music on the scratchy radio broadcasting from behind the bar. Her mind wandered as she stared into her glass, thinking about everything and nothing. 

She was so deep in her thoughts that didn’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind until it was too late. She didn’t have time to react before she felt the impact of a blunt object hitting the back of her head and her vision went black.

Hermione groaned as she regained consciousness; her head was pounding and she felt waves of nausea rolling through her body. The back of her head felt like it had been split open by whatever hit her earlier and her ears were ringing. With a grimace she forced her head up from where it had lolled forward with her chin resting against her chest, her neck muscles protesting furiously. 

Her vision was swimming as she gazed around the room, taking in the surroundings. Despite not recognizing the room, everything looked somewhat familiar: the dark wood paneling, opulent yet tasteful decor, rich fabrics of the couch and chair sitting opposite of her. It reminded her of the _Library._

The _Library!_

In a moment of clarity, memories came rushing back to her and she jolted to attention, panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins, overcoming her disorientation. She instinctively jerked forward but found herself bound to what felt like a plush armchair. She strained against her bindings, desperately trying to wiggle free but it was no use. Her hands, torso, and legs were firmly secured in place. Whomever did this knew what they were doing.

She looked around, trying to formulate some sort of escape plan, though in her current state she knew her odds were very low. How the hell did she end up here? Where was ‘here?’ Was her cover blown? She thought that she had been so careful. Who had recognized her?

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sounds of a door opening behind her and what seemed to be two people entering the room, speaking in hushed tones. She immediately went limp, feigning unconsciousness. Maybe they’d slip up and mention something useful. They’d have to be the world’s dumbest thugs to fall for the act. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, her palms sweating, and her breathing too erratic. Still, she committed to her plan and did her best. 

“You sure this is the one she wants?” A deep gravelly voice sounded by Hermione’s ear. She had to make a concerted effort not to flinch when she felt his hot breath rustling her hair. He was far too close for comfort. “Hmph… Doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Eh, they don’t pay us enough to care. We got the one she described, sitting at the bar just like she said she’d be. That’s good enough for me.” The other man said, his voice was a little higher pitch with a bit of a squeak to it.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out. Hey! Wake up!” 'Deep and Gravelly' growled, moving away from her face. His voice became more irritated when she didn't respond, "I said, wake up!"

Hermione jumped at the sharp sting of a hand slapping her cheek. Her eyes watered slightly but she otherwise gave no response. She blinked up at her captors, giving them her best defiant glare as she studied them. 

The two men were polar opposites in shape and appearance. The man with the deeper voice was relatively short and broad, his dark brown hair slicked back which somehow made his facial features appear stronger and more pronounced. The other man looked like a walking beanpole, tall, thin and narrow, his sandy blonde hair trimmed close to his head. The only similarity between them was that they were dressed impeccably, sporting tailored dark suits. Aside from the obvious, everything about them screamed shady business. Mob maybe?

“Mm, got a little fire in her… I was half expecting her to cry.” Beanpole taunted almost sounding disappointed as he stepped into her space, his dark beady eyes studying her face. “You shouldn’ta hit her so hard, you left a mark. The Boss isn’t gonna like that.”

“Did the trick didn’t it?” The other man, Beefy, shrugged. He opened his mouth to speak but clamped his jaw tight and stood up straight at attention when the sound of heels clacked into the room. The other man followed suit, his eyes betraying fear and intimidation. It was almost comical. Hermione wanted to turn around and see what had them so worried. Was this ‘the Boss?’ Her curiosity was sated seconds later when a woman stepped into her line of sight. 

Hermione’s heart leapt as she took in the strange woman, dressed in a black gown. She gracefully took a seat in the vacant chair sitting opposite of her, her pale blue eyes watching her intently. 

For a split second she thought she was looking at the Silver Swan, the resemblance was uncanny. Upon closer inspection there were subtle differences. This woman was older (though she had aged very well), her hair was not quite as blonde and was pulled back in a severe bun and her features sharper. Her eyes were the wrong shade of blue. Still, she exuded confidence, elegance and power and Hermione could tell that she meant business; the men’s intimidation was not an act. This woman’s mere presence commanded respect. 

“So… you’re the one who knocked up my daughter, hmm?” The woman’s words were sharp despite her thick French accent. She spoke without hesitation and leaving no room for argument. Definitely not to be trifled with.

Hermione froze, her mouth flapping dumbly without uttering a sound as she tried to process this information. “I-I-I… what?” she stammered, her mind was racing. She was so wrapped up in her own head that she hadn't heard a fourth person approach. 

“Bonsoir, chérie, did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took soooooome liberties with history and radio broadcasting music. Sorry, history buffs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this piece for Fleurmione Week and didn't really intend to continue it beyond two chapters. Buuuuttttttttt... After reviewing comments from Ch2, I have decided to continue the story for a third (and final) installment.  
> Thanks so much for reading, I greatly appreciate the feedback. I love writing for this pairing. It's a privilege to write these stories, and I'm just tickled that y'all like em!  
> Anyway, thanks for sticking around :-)  
> \- Kamaro

Hermione’s head snapped around so fast that she nearly gave herself whiplash. “Y-You… Miss Sw-Swan.” she managed to croak out, her mouth felt like it was full of cotton as she tripped over her words. After _weeks_ , there she was. And apparently pregnant? And part of the mob? What was going on here? Nothing made sense and her mind was spinning in dizzying circles. If she wasn’t tied to the chair she probably would have fallen over. All she knew was the object of her affection was standing before her in the flesh and she fixated on that; her eyes followed the familiar figure that had entered the room. She subconsciously took a deep breath as the young Frenchwoman walked by, greedily inhaling the scent of her expensive perfume that haunted her memories. Jasmine and vanilla. 

“Oui. C’est moi.” The Swan responded simply as she made her way over to the couch, draping herself lengthwise across the soft, blood-red velvet cushions. She looked like a Roman goddess, dressed predictably in an elegant silver satin gown that fit her body like a dream. Her silvery-blonde hair was pulled up in an elegant twist and she was wearing only light makeup. In Hermione’s unsolicited opinion, she looked better this way; more at ease and natural. She reclined casually against the arm rest, resting her head lightly on a fist. Unlike when she was performing at _The_ _Library_ , the singer wasn’t wearing her usual elbow-length, black silk gloves, and she was casually inspecting her nails as she waited for Hermione to say something. When the silence remained unbroken and the tension became suffocating, she sat up slightly and fixed her cool gaze on the bound woman. 

“Why is she still tied up? Cut her free this instant!” She demanded, snapping her fingers impatiently. 

Beanpole whipped out a hidden switchblade from his jacket pocket and cut Hermione’s bonds without pause or question. The sudden movement caught Hermione’s attention and she was finally pulled out of her shocked daze. 

Beefy eyed her closely as she rubbed her sore wrists. His arms were folded defensively across his wide, barrel-like chest, silently daring her to do something stupid. 

_‘Typical thug,’_ Hermione shrugged inwardly but gave no response or indication that his behavior was intimidating. Truthfully, she was scared beyond measure. 

The older blonde woman was watching the young brunette through dangerously narrowed eyes. It made Hermione uncomfortable and she fought the urge to squirm in her seat. She felt like she was being stared down by a snake preparing to strike at its prey, and she knew that she was the mouse in this situation. 

“Now that that is out of the way, let’s not waste one another’s time with pretense and cut to the chase.” The authoritative woman began, leaning back in her chair, watching her expectantly. Though it was a more relaxed posture, it made Hermione even more nervous. She looked like she was in her element delivering shakedowns and ultimatums like this. _Who were these people?_

Hermione knew she would have to tread very carefully here. It was likely that her very life depended on it. So she chose to hold her cards close and not speak unless addressed. 

“I’ll be quite frank with you, Mademoiselle. The only reason you are here is because my daughter insisted we bring you in. If I had it my way, I would have ensured you were somewhere enjoying a permanent vacation and your body never found. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione nodded quickly. The woman’s words and severe tone had left no room for interpretation and it was clear that this was not an empty threat. She swallowed thickly, unsure of where this was going, other than downhill fast. 

“However, given this unique situation and my daughter’s insistence, I have decided to forgo passing immediate judgement and will give you a chance to decide your own fate. You have two options: you will do right by my daughter and care for her and the child or you will take a little swim.”

Hermione gulped, her gaze darting quickly between the two blonde women staring at her as she tried to think. Her mind was already a jumbled mess - still trying to make heads and tails of the whole situation - now she had to add life changing decisions to the mix. 

She certainly didn’t _want_ to die and the idea of being around the Swan was more than appealing to her. At the same time, she knew next to nothing about her or her family. Hell, she didn’t even know the Swan’s _real_ name! What would they have her do? Could she set aside everything she believed in and live at the mercy of this family? Was it worth it or would it be easier to just bite the bullet and stay true to herself? Part of her was screaming not to cave and become some mob puppet, even though that meant her own demise. At least she would die free. 

Hermione’s thoughts then drifted to the baby. _Her baby_. Her sense of duty kicked in, outweighing her other doubts. Even though it was clear that this family wanted for nothing and there was little she could provide that they didn’t already have, she felt a strong urge to step up and prove herself. She had always liked the idea of raising a family one day - a dream she thought impossible for her in this day and age. Even if this wasn’t the way she envisioned, the thought of her child gave her something to cling to and hope for in this uncertain time. But there was one little question that she had to ask… 

“Are you sure it’s mine?”

Her question was met immediately with two outraged responses competing for her attention. 

“Are you suggesting that I sleep around?!?”

“How dare you insinuate my daughter would lie about this!”

Behind her the two thugs were snickering, not bothering to lower their voices. “How the hell did the little Miss fall for this dolt?” Beanpole drawled. His literal partner in crime responded with a deep chuckle. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have a fun day after all. I knew there was a reason I got out of bed today.” Beefy cracked his knuckles menacingly. 

Hermione cringed in her chair, stammering and trying her best to do damage control before the situation escalated further. “Oh shit! No not at all! I mean, I just didn’t know I _could_ do that… I, uh… am not exactly experienced in that department. You… you were my first.” She flushed bright red at her admission. She took a deep breath and turned her attention to the still irate Swan, giving her answer and sealing her fate. “Of course I’ll do right by you. I would never let you bear this alone.”

The two blondes relaxed slightly, appeased by her response. The Swan leaned back in her reclining position and her mother settled back in her chair, though she was still glaring icy daggers at her. The older woman’s gaze was unwavering when she waved her hand. A middle-aged man dressed in a sharp black tuxedo entered the room, his chin high and proud. 

“Monsieur Jones, please escort Mademoiselle Granger to her room.” 

“Very well, Madame.” The butler addressed his boss, not sparing Hermione a glance when he instructed her to follow him.

Hermione knew that arguing was futile and resigned herself to just do as she was told. _Don’t do anything stupid, think of the baby_. She got up and made to follow him but the sound of a throat being cleared stopped her in her tracks and she quickly turned back around. 

“Mademoiselle, do not disappoint me. I do not give second chances.” 

Hermione nodded stiffly, the threat was not lost on her. She still had a million questions but she knew that it would not be wise to push her luck with ‘the Boss’ woman. “Of course, ma’am. Your generosity is much appreciated and will not be taken for granted.” 

“I’ll see you soon, chérie,” the Swan’s soft lilt followed her out the door. 

Hermione paced silently across the fancy Persian floor rug in her new room, which was easily larger than her entire apartment space. Like the rest of the mansion, the room was filled with extravagant pieces of furniture and priceless art. In addition to the biggest bed she had ever seen, there was a chest of drawers, an armoire, a writing desk, and a variety of small tables and stands; all expertly crafted and finely carved out of expensive hardwood. Even though the room was spacious and more luxurious than anything she had experienced, the dark colors and rich wood panels made it feel oppressive. A beautiful prison.

She eventually stopped her restless wandering and sat down at the foot of the giant bed, her feet dangling, not quite able to reach the floor. She felt the fight knocked out of her. She felt crushed. Defeated. 

She was a sell out.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself and not completely break down. She was mentally kicking herself. She had made one drunken mistake and now she was backed into a corner with no escape. Literally. Beefy and Beanpole were standing sentinel on the other side of the thick door, having followed her and Jones, the snobby butler. 

A soft knock roused her from her thoughts and the door opened a second later before she could give a response. Hermione barely had time to look up before her heart jumped, lodging itself in her throat. Since her arrival, she was constantly being reminded how out of place she was and she was painfully aware that she didn’t know the proper etiquette. She started to panic, not wanting to offend her unexpected guest; her pulse raced and her palms started to sweat. Without thinking, she hopped to her feet. It seemed like the right thing to do. 

The Silver Swan strode across the room so gracefully that it looked like she was floating. She sat at the head of the bed, leaning back on the pillows. She took her time getting situated, stretching her long legs out and smoothing down her dress before turning her attention to Hermione, fixing her with a cool, passive gaze. It was impossible to tell if the Swan was feeling anything at this moment; any and all emotions were tucked safely behind a neutral mask. It was unnerving how calm she seemed.

The brunette warily settled back down in her original spot as the other woman made herself comfortable. She fought to ignore the intoxicating scent of expensive French perfume flooding her senses - she didn’t want her thoughts to be clouded by jasmine and vanilla. Despite her best efforts, her treacherous mind wandered back to their encounter and she couldn’t help but think about it. Thankfully a melodious voice pulled her from her unbidden reverie before her thoughts became too indecent.

“I believe it is time that you and I have a little, what is the American phrase, heart-to-heart, chérie.” 

“You could say that again.” Hermione quipped sarcastically before she could stop herself. Being in close proximity to the singer was sending her emotions back into a tailspin and she was giving herself internal whiplash. She knew that being petulant would earn her no favors but after everything that had happened, she didn’t really care. What else could they do to her? For all intents and purposes she was their prisoner - completely at their mercy and beck and call. 

“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. My maman insisted on the extra precautions despite what I told her. I do not believe you would harm me or anyone else for that matter.”

“Extra precautions? You mean you don’t kidnap and threaten all of your guests? I feel so honored to be the exception.” Hermione bit back, not bothering to hide the bitter tone and frustration in her voice. 

“You can keep being a shit and I can rescind my offer of protection or perhaps you could have a civil conversation with me.” The Swan’s eyes flashed dangerously for a split second and Hermione gulped, knowing she was toeing the line. “Do not forget, you are not the only one whose life has been affected by this.”

“I’m sorry, it’s been a crazy day. I mean, one minute I was at _The Library_ and the next thing I know I’m tied to a chair being told about my unborn child and that my two options are to work for your family or be killed in some unpleasant manner. I mean, forgive me but it was a lot to wrap my head around. I don’t even know your name and I’m practically bound to you now.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. Hearing herself say it out loud felt like acceptance. It was no longer just a bad dream in her mind that she was hoping to wake up from. It was reality. Her reality. 

“Fleur.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“My name. It is Fleur. Fleur Delacour.”

“What happened to valuing your privacy and anonymity?” Hermione chuckled wryly, recalling their conversation that fateful night. It felt like ages ago. She repeated the name in her mind. It was painfully French but she thought it was beautiful and liked the way it flowed. 

“I think we both know we are beyond that now.”

“I guess you’re right. So… I really, I mean, we really…” Hermione stammered slightly, gesturing instead to Fleur’s stomach. She had checked a few times when she was sitting in the parlor, even though she knew that it was too soon for the blonde to be showing any sort of bump. 

“Oui. It would seem so.”

Hermione nodded, turning her head to stare at the mahogany desk. Despite everything, she felt her heart swell at the thought of seeing the singer pregnant with her child. She knew she was taking Fleur’s words at face value that the baby was hers and there was really no way of proving otherwise. But at the same time, what reason would the Frenchwoman have to lie about it? If she was gold digging or trying to blackmail her, surely there were much richer or more powerful people she could have gone after. And from their brief interaction, she didn’t get the sense that was Fleur’s motive.

Thankfully, Fleur let her have some time to herself and didn’t pressure her to talk. She fished out a cigarette for something to do, offering one to Fleur, who declined stating that it would be bad for the baby, and asked her to refrain from smoking in her vicinity. Hermione reluctantly agreed and put the box back into her pocket. She sat quietly for a few more minutes before breaking her silence.

“Why?”

“Why what, chérie? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Why did you pick me? I mean, you could have had any man at _The Library_ whenever you wanted. Hell you probably could have found someone different each night!” She raised her hands defensively when the blonde glared at her. “I’m not saying you would or are like that at all. I just meant that I’m no one special, I can’t offer you or the baby much. Not that you need it, your family seems loaded. I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you chose me. And when you found out about my… uh, uniqueness, you stayed and didn’t run for the hills.”

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, chérie.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something and then slammed it shut as Fleur’s words sank in. Something wasn’t sitting right. Her gaze narrowed slightly, “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I picked you long before you showed up that first night. Your entire operation of discovering and infiltrating _The Library_ was a carefully designed test.” Fleur was inspecting her nails. Her tone was calm and even as if what she said was the most obvious statement in the world. 

“A test? What do you mean it was a test?” Hermione practically screeched as Fleur’s admission hit her like a ton of bricks. All previous emotions she had been feeling earlier were suddenly replaced by outrage. Hermione was struggling to keep her temper from flaring and she balled her hands into tight fists against her thighs. Had she been played this entire time and never realized it? _‘Some spy I am.’_

“Oui, a test. I’ve known who you are and the work you do for some time, and I wanted to see for myself.” 

“How? You said you just moved here from New York... or was that a lie?”

“It was no lie, I did move here recently, but my extended family has been operating in Chicago for a while now. You were first recommended to us for your particular skills and we’ve been watching your progress. You have built quite a reputation for tracking and getting information.” 

“Seems like a lot of effort.” Hermione muttered under her breath so quietly that she was surprised that Fleur heard her at all. As mad as she was, she was still trying not to lose her cool. She wanted answers and lashing out would have the opposite effect. 

“It was, but it was also necessary. You see, we have a bit of a problem and we found ourselves needing someone with your particular skill set. Someone who can go undercover and find out information without getting caught and is also reliable. It was nothing personal, just business.”

“Just business.” Hermione scoffed incredulously; unwilling to believe that her ‘grand scheme’ of infiltrating _The Library_ was actually part of a pre-cooked mob plan the entire time, and she had played right into their hands. Just like that, her blood was back to simmering under her skin and she had to take several breaths to calm herself once more. 

“Well I guess that’s one test I’m glad I failed. That’s why you left, right? Because I wasn’t up to snuff and didn’t meet your expectations?” Despite her efforts to be calm, her words were hard and laced with venom, betraying her anger and hurt. She wasn’t sure why she was so upset about the idea of falling short of their expectations. She had never liked the idea of disappointing someone, regardless of the situation.

“Au contraire, you passed with flying colors.”

“What? How can you say that? We went in trying to find out information and came up empty!” Hermione retorted bitterly. 

“Non, that is not exactly correct. All those leads you came up with, the whispered names and seemingly innocuous bits of information, would have eventually led you to us - my family and myself.”

“What? How? We spent over a month following up and each lead was a dead end. All that work and I have nothing to show for it!” 

Fleur simply waved her hand passively, seemingly unperturbed by the tension. “That is because your leads were, hmm, how do I say this, misdirected. You only _thought_ they were dead ends. I couldn’t have you going about exposing us, now could I?” 

“How do you even know what we found?”

“The police are not the only ones with little spies.”

Hermione faltered as that sank in: her stomach twisted uncomfortably; her heart pounded hard against her ribs; and heat spread quickly through her body. _Was there a mole? Was that how Fleur knew so much?_ _She had always thought her precinct was clean!_ She narrowed her gaze in a silent challenge as she tried to think who the rat might be. 

The precinct was too big for her to know everyone on the roster and even if she knew all of their names, she had only interacted with a small handful. To top it off, very few officers were actually aware of what she did and the ones she did know didn’t really fit the bill for two-timing as a mob spy. Most of her work was passed off directly to Captain Moody and that was the extent of her time in the office. She never would have thought that he had taken a payout, though. It seemed so unlike the veteran officer. Still, she had to know.

She sighed in defeat, “Fine, who is it?”

“Her name is Luna Delacour, though you know her as Luna Lovegood. She is my dear cousin.”

Hermione choked on her spit, her eyes wide with disbelief. That was even _worse_. She suddenly wished it had been Moody. Betrayal flooded her veins, turning her blood to ice. One of her closest friends? This whole time? Oh God, all the things she had told Luna in confidence had likely been fed right back to Fleur and her family on a silver platter.

Fleur casually leaned back against the pillows and allowed Hermione the time to process this revelation. She grabbed a book on the bedside table and idly flipped through it as she waited for the other woman to compose herself.

Hermione didn’t want to believe it, but at the same time it made too much sense. She clutched her head as if that would prevent it from exploding, fingers weaving into her bushy curls. Her stomach heaved and she fought the urge to vomit. Her breathing was erratic and shallow, borderline hyperventilating. 

Now that she thought about it, the family resemblance was uncanny. Luna had the same platinum blonde hair, the same blue eyes. But it was more than just her looks. Other details, now that she was reflecting, made too much sense. 

When she had first brought up the idea of infiltrating _The Library_ , Luna immediately threw in her support, even though she appeared to be only half-listening to the conversation. Luna had been the one to encourage Hermione to return to _The Library_ after her and Fleur’s dalliance. Also, Luna was in charge of following up on the leads that Hermione gave her, so she could have easily just said that it was a dead end and the search stopped there. 

The timing was too aligned to be a mere coincidence, too. How else had Fleur known to be there that first night that she was working solo? How would Beefy and Beanpole have known when to jump her when only she, Ginny, and Luna knew that they were going to pull the plug on their side mission the next day?

After several agonizing minutes, Hermione found the strength to speak; her eyes were burning as tears threatened to spill. “So, this whole time really was a test and I was just getting played for a fool? Am I to assume that the ‘anonymous tip’ was your doing?”

Fleur sighed and set the book back down, turning her attention back to the brunette at the foot of the bed. She nodded slowly, her cerulean blues actually looked sympathetic to Hermione’s situation. “Oui, the information you received was from me. I wanted to see how long it would take you to track down the location and also see what you would do with the information once you had it. I was surprised to hear that it took you less than a week.”

“So if I passed your test, why didn’t you say anything sooner? We danced around one another for weeks and then you just left!”

“Because after that night together I felt like I started to see the woman you are. You conduct yourself with honor and pride. You are genuine and earnest. I realized that I wanted to keep you out of this, despite the fact that you would have been perfect. But then I found out that I was pregnant and this was the best deal I could cut with my mother. I will not say the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you.”

Hermione leaned forward: elbows propped up on her thighs and rested her face in her hands, tiredly rubbing her eyes. “Fuck. This is such a goddamn mess. So if you hadn’t gotten pregnant I would have had a clean out?”

Fleur shrugged, “Does it matter now? We cannot change the past and now we have to somehow work together to make this…” she gestured to her stomach, “Work. Believe me, chérie, I am no more thrilled about this than you. However, we have a responsibility.”

Hermione sobered at the reminder of their child and she felt the fight leave her and she exhaled deeply, suddenly feeling exhausted and heavy. Fleur was right. They had to figure out how to coexist. It wouldn’t be fair to their baby. And she truly did want to be a part of her child’s life, even without the threat of a painful death. 

“Well, I guess thanks for sticking up for me. I’m sure that I wouldn’t have been a fan of her plans either.” 

“Unless you like being suspended from the rafter by your thumbs then I don’t believe so. And that was mild compared to some of her other ideas.”

“Not particularly, no.” Hermione sat back, tapping her finger against her leg as she thought. “So, what now?”

“You will go back to work for the force as if nothing happened. You will feed your captain loose ends, nothing of particular consequence but just enough to stay relevant. You will provide us with the full report. You will move here and we shall cover your expenses and pay you a generous commission for a job well done.”

“Fine.” Hermione ground out with some difficulty, still hating the idea of being a sell out. “And us? Where do we stand?”

“It is up to you to decide what you will do next. I for one would like to be able to get to know you more. We might as well make the most of this if we are to be with one another.”

“I want to be clear that I am not at all happy about how this came about. I do not like the fact that you lied to me and that I don't really have a choice about any of this. But I have a responsibility to you and our child and I meant what I said earlier. I won’t leave you to deal with this alone.”

Fleur nodded, once again looking pleased by her declaration. “I understand.”

“I know that I am at a disadvantage here and your mother will expect me to prove myself worthy of you and I shall do my best.” Hermione cleared her throat before continuing, “I know that I am in no position to be making any demands, but I’ll have you know, trust goes both ways. It would be nice to have some reassurance that you will not change your mind and suddenly throw me to the wolves.”

“There is always risk in this line of work, as you well know, but as long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I can promise no harm will come to you by my family’s hand. You have my word.”

Hermione nodded stiffly. Despite everything, she accepted the response and believed it to be true. “So what will you have me do? You said you needed someone to go undercover for your little problem?”

“Ah, oui. Essentially it would be the same premise as what you did at _The Library_. You see, what I told you all those weeks ago is true. My family and I are in the business of shipping fine goods - those goods being alcohol. The Delacours own several wineries in France and we import the wares to the United States. However, we’ve noticed that there have been some discrepancies recently between what we receive and what is being reported by some of the establishments we supply but are not sure where the breakdown is. I’m not sure if it’s an issue in our network or our competition sabotaging us but I would like to know for sure.”

“I assume _The Library_ is one of those establishments? Is it one of yours? Its opening is what started this whole mess, after all. Also how convenient that you just happen to sing there almost every night and I never saw you pay for a single drink when we were there together.” Hermione slid a few more pieces of the puzzle into place. 

“Oui, we had an indirect hand in the opening of _The Library_ but purely for the sake of the test. We usually just supply alcohol and that is the limit of our involvement. However, _The Library_ is not a point of interest for this task. You will be supplied with a list of places and people we would like you to follow up on. Of course, you will be working with Luna and Mademoiselle Weasley on this. You three make quite the team.”

Hermione‘s heart skipped a beat. In her distress, she had forgotten about Ginny! Did she know? Was she in on this scheme, too? She and Luna had been dating for a while and that would be a hell of a secret to have to keep from the woman she considered her best friend.

As if reading her mind, Fleur nodded “Oui, Mademoiselle Weasley is aware of the situation. Like you, we were testing her as well. She was brought up to speed rather recently.”

Hermione scoffed and made an off-handed remark, “Well I never thought I’d live to see the day I was working for the mob.”

Fleur sat up quickly, her voice suddenly hard and her icy sapphires had lost all warmth. “We are not a mob family and do not condone such mindless and unprovoked violence. We are nothing like those petty criminals! In France, the Delacours are a respected name and reputable businesspeople. We would be here as well if not for prohibition. It is only because of an idiotic law in this country that we must operate illegally!”

Hermione shrank back slightly, her hands raised in submission, “I’m sorry, I meant no offense.” 

“It is fine, you did not know, but you would do well to keep your opinions to yourself. Others are not as forgiving as I am.” 

“I understand. Please forgive me, this is all very new to me.”

“I will help you learn.” Fleur nodded and got to her feet, “I’m sure you are tired after your day. I’ll send your dinner up in a few hours. Tomorrow you should dine with the rest of us. It is Christmas after all and my sister is eager to meet you but I think it best you have some time to yourself. Make yourself comfortable and get some rest. Good night.” She strode out of the room and closed the door behind her with a sharp snap. 

Hermione flopped on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She sighed deeply and her internal voice chimed in. _Well, you may as well embrace it, there is no backing out now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a jump from my usual stuff. When writing a periodical piece for the 1920's Chicago, I tried to incorporate the darker elements. The Roaring 20's weren't all just glitz and glam. There was rampant crime and corruption and people literally getting away with murder. Look at the old movies/stories. They were dark and kinda bleak. I tried to emulate that in this story. I think that ending with a fluffy 'ran off into the sunset' ending would actually be a disservice to the periodical aspect. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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